


Chasm

by rannadylin



Series: Watcher Violet [8]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Alternate Point of View, F/M, Reconciliation, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 10:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18248105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rannadylin/pseuds/rannadylin
Summary: Another prompt for Queen_Scribbles via the Memories ask meme on Tumblr, this one for Anselm: "A memory they want to share." So this is basically chapter one of Clan and Court from Anselm's POV. I think the memory he *actually* would want to share is from later in the fic though - the point when he realizes he's okay with Vi being in love with someone else and ready to let her go, which he alludes to in talking to her at the end of that fic - but I like how this first chapter turned out in his POV so let's pretend it fits the prompt anyway. And maybe later I'll write more chapters on this thing and then it *will* fit the prompt. ;-)





	Chasm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queen_scribbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_scribbles/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Clan and Court](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12116316) by [rannadylin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rannadylin/pseuds/rannadylin). 



Seeing her again is like walking a narrow bridge, swaying over a chasm in the wind. (They crossed one such, this caravan of Itzlis, setting out like pilgrims themselves in pursuit of their sister who wouldn’t come home from her pilgrimage. It was neither the first nor the last moment Anselm doubted his place in that caravan. His sisters, married to Garivald and Corbus, have every right, and Gar encouraged him to come along too – Gar’s goals, in this, are aligned with his own, so perhaps Anselm should take this encouragement with a generous grain of salt. Yet here he is, one Coatl amongst all the Itzlis – his sisters included, having taken their husbands’ clan name. He suspects his odds are slim, but he came anyway. Determined to impress her, to show her how he has changed – that bridge, though, gave him pause. Some of the children had to be carried across, and that did it: it would be ridiculous for their uncle to likewise require carrying, so he pressed on.)

Seeing her again, as she welcomes her clan to her keep with delighted and bewildered surprise when they all crowd into what amounts to her throne room, he is well aware the chasm between them is primarily of his own making, and the bridge back into her good graces is narrow and precarious, and he hesitates again. Garivald nudges him, as Narusa looks on with a sly but equally encouraging smile, but Anselm shakes his head, seeing Violet deep in conversation with her own sisters, still blissfully unaware of his presence in the crowd. To interrupt such joyful reunions now would stir the bridge he walks beyond what it can bear.

So he tries not to follow her too closely with his eyes; _nor_ with his mind, which he knows would be the most uncouth sort of intrusion. She doesn’t even know – last she saw him, _he_ didn’t even know – of his abilities in that respect. He has learned that it is not the sort of thing best introduced with an unsolicited demonstration, not if you are trying to win – or win back – someone’s trust.

He manages to occupy elsewhere for a time, chatting with Corbus, holding the baby (so new he seems to have doubled in size already, just in the days spent traveling here) when Evine needs a break, pretending that this is just an ordinary clan gathering back in Citlatl and not a pilgrimage to the far side of the continent. Thus it almost takes him by surprise when Evine nudges him and takes the baby back, nodding over his shoulder with a smile.

He turns to see Violet, closer than ever in the last five years. A Dyrwoodan fellow, towering over the crowd of orlans, follows her around, looking a little bit lost anytime Violet strays too far from him. (To this, Anselm can relate.) Curiosity convinces Anselm that _this_ one’s mind is not off-limits, and briefly he reads there…an urgent errand, a call for help to a most trusted friend, all muddled a bit under the ever growing layer of _names_ Violet is inflicting upon him with the whirlwind tour of introductions. (He can’t blame the Dyrwoodan, really: they have more or less doubled the population of the keep, descending upon it like this.)

Violet is adding Garivald and Narusa to her companion’s burden of names when she looks up and sees Anselm. His mind is still on the Dyrwoodan, still careful not to impose upon _her,_ but there is a moment in its openness when he catches a glimmer of her mind anyway. He almost recoils from her shock. But she reins it in quickly with a polite smile, and he cannot do less.

“Anselm. What a surprise,” she greets him in a voice whose practiced blandness would soothe and welcome, had he not noted her shock already. Still, she has not driven him away outright with her first breath. The bridge is there, will he but walk it. “I didn’t realize you would be visiting with my family.”

Of course not. The whole family’s visit was a surprise; why should she expect to see him among her clan when even their visit was not known to her? Still, Garivald had thought to include him. Perhaps the bridge to her favor can begin at her siblings’ acceptance. “Your sisters-in-law _are_ my sisters,” he points out, mirroring her politeness in his smile and the confidence in which he clothes his voice, bringing to bear all the charm he can without abusing the actual _charms_ inherent in his skills as a cipher. “Despite the past,” oh, if only the chasm that is their past could be bridged over as glibly as he says this now, “we are practically family.”

She mutters something polite and noncommittal and flees before he can say or do more. So, perhaps her siblings’ acceptance is _not_ the place to begin after all. Anselm bites back every other approach he’d thought to try. She did not, after all, cast him out immediately. He can try again later.

The Dyrwoodan follows her after a moment, but not before looking Anselm over with eyes narrowed: he has picked up on Violet’s distrust, of course. He catches up to her, grins as she introduces him to the twins. Anselm is attending too closely: he does not miss the look that passes between Violet and her Dyrwoodan. It startles him – not that she should have moved on, after five years; he has expected that as much as he feared it, all this time while he came to terms with why she left; he just wasn’t expecting her to fall for one of the _folk_. But there is indubitably _something_ between them; he barely even needs cipher’s eyes to see that. This, then, is the wind through the chasm.

If the bridge be sound, he assures himself, the wind can be ignored.


End file.
